Thinking en plein air

Before I met my husband, I spent most of my time alone, absorbed in thought. My life was simple, peaceful, and quiet, if sometimes lonely. Throughout my days, no matter what I was doing, unrelated thoughts simmered in my mind. Thinking was my main activity and favorite pastime, and I had the luxury of spending hours every day in uninterrupted thought. I weaved long braids of thought over the course of days or weeks, collecting slivers of ideas from past and present experiences, things I’d learned, things my senses perceived on daily walks and hikes, and vague notions from my dreams. Past experiences continued to unravel in my mind for days or weeks or years, until their full meaning became clear. I could steep in a collection of ideas for days at a time, until it softened and a theme emerged.

My life was a series of themes, each spinning off variations of thoughts. Some became blog subjects, personal writings, or other projects. Each theme and train of thought changed me in some way as it became part of my inner landscape, and faded to a conclusion just as a new theme arose, organically.

For the first year after I met my husband, I thought mostly of him, our love, our future, and our life together. Even so, I was still able to produce long webs of thought. I did a lot of writing, mostly for or about him. Those thoughts were mostly feeling, aroused by an intense romance that was spiritual in fervor.

At some point, as our life together became more real than imagined, my thoughts about the future left the ecstatic realm and entered the mundane. We began to spend most of our time talking and thinking about things like financial planning, car maintenance, home buying, car seat safety, and baby poop. The thoughts that simmer constantly in my mind now are purely practical rather than philosophical. I have no mind left for extracurricular thinking.

Since becoming a mom, I’m lucky if I can continue one train of thought for 15 minutes without being interrupted. My mind is never still enough to fan thoughts into flame. Being a mom of an almost-toddler requires me to be constantly vigilant. When I’m with my daughter, and even when I’m not, I’m always thinking: Is she safe? Is she getting into trouble? Is she hungry? Does she have to poop? Whenever I germinate a thought that seems worthy of weeks of contemplation, my attention is called elsewhere and within five minutes I’ve forgotten it entirely.

I miss the way I used to think. I miss my INTP-ness. I want to get reacquainted with my mind and luxuriate in thought again. If I weren’t breastfeeding, I think it would be refreshing to my spirit to spend a whole day away from my daughter in uninterrupted thought. It would be even better than a day of uninterrupted sleep.

Oh, but I would miss my daughter so much. I would want to shelve my thinking just so I could kiss her chubby cheeks and tickle her and watch her crawl around talking to her toys.

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